


a kingdom, and this

by makescalamity



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Coming Untouched, Gentle Sex, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Post-Kings Rising, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:46:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24712567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makescalamity/pseuds/makescalamity
Summary: “I love this about you.”Laurent’s response was a little breathless, almost laughing. “You’ve said that before,” and then, “What in particular this time?”“That you can come from being kissed.”Laurent ducked his head, but rolled his hips back pointedly on the fingers still, sturdy, and aching inside him. His body shuddered in a delicious wave before he huffed against Damen’s mouth. “Not just from being kissed."
Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 224





	a kingdom, and this

**Author's Note:**

> This has been done, but have it again.

In the days that followed the deaths of Kastor and the Regent, Damen's sickbed was not nearly as enjoyable as he had imagined.

Laurent, indeed newly tender, was keeping his distance.

For nearly two weeks, Damen had lain in bed, healing interrupted by a near-constant influx of servants and messengers, by wooden pallets holding declarations with the ink still fresh for him to sign -- by the massive task of consolidating hostile kingdoms into a single Empire.

Damen was hardly alone, but he was lonely. He often only saw Laurent well after dark, when the sun had set over the rush of the waves drifting through their windows, and they had little time for anything that wasn’t sleep. A kingdom he fought for, and a kingdom he won, but it felt less important without Laurent by his side. They had been ruling together long before they realized. Damen missed that most of all.

In a moment of solitude, Paschal entered the Kings' chambers, arms full of fresh bandages and glass bottles. He was not alone. Laurent swept in behind him, a furrow carved deep between his eyes until they landed on Damen, one arm slung behind his head, going mad with boredom and idleness in their bed.

“Let me have a look at your side, Exhaulted.” Damen obliged, though he didn't know if he’d ever grow accustomed to the formal address coming from the physician. Laurent lingered by the desk, sifting through the papers that had been brought before Damen to sign while Paschal changed his dressings with a foul-smelling combination of salves. He tolerated the fussing, if only for the way it soothed the tightness around Laurent’s eyes.

“I think you will be able to return to your duties tomorrow,” said Paschal. “Slowly, of course, but the wound is mending nicely,” Damen nodded, eyes fixed on Laurent, who seemed to be too busy listening to their exchange to be doing much reading at all.

He thanked Paschal when he withdrew, leaving behind an assortment of salves and oils with instructions that Damen only half-heard. Laurent’s hair had fallen forward, revealing the spot high on his neck, just below his ear that would pull sigh after sigh when lavished with attention. Damen knew this intimately, and hadn’t managed to think of much else the entire day. The last time he kissed it, Laurent had still been a prince.

When they were alone, Damen asked, “Did you bring Paschal to clear me?”

"Our paths crossed in the hall earlier. I simply remarked on how much progress the King of Akielos had made in his healing."

Laurent rose from the desk. Despite the confidence of his words, he stood at the far post of the bed as if waiting, his long, pale fingers whorling over carved vines.

“Shall I summon him back to put it in words? Would that convince you?”

“That won’t be necessary” Laurent said, exasperation masking a gentle smile.

“Come here.”

After a moment of quiet appraisal, Laurent sat lightly at Damen’s side, looking down at him as Damen stared back, enamoured, feeling now was as good a time as any to push his luck. "Kiss me."

Something eased in Laurent’s brow, and he stooped to press a kiss, feather-soft, to the center of his palm. An echo of a time not long since passed. It made Damen ache even more than the wound, almost healed, on his side.

“I meant-“

“I know what you meant.”

When Laurent made to stand, Damen tangled their fingers together to pull him closer than he had been in days. He lifted his neck in invitation.

Laurent obliged with a single sweet kiss but did not linger. He pushed Damen back firmly by the shoulders. "You're still healing. Don't overexert yourself."

"You are helping," and he paused, tapping his fingers against the warm gold on Laurent’s wrist. “I missed you today.”

“Someone has to safeguard your kingdom until you are well enough to return.”

Their exchange had coaxed another small smile from Laurent. Damen was happy to see it. While he was still healing, in many ways, Laurent was, too.

He gave another tug on Laurent’s arm until he settled fully on the bed. He eyed him warily, but Damen was insistent, shifting until Laurent had one knee on either side of his own, hovering uncertainly over his thighs. He held himself as always, with constant precision, each move calculated to avoid hurting Damen while staying as close as possible. Once satisfied, Laurent placed his free hand over the fresh bandages on Damen’s side.

Damen smiled up at him, heart in his throat. In the still of the room he asked, "How is our kingdom, then?” Laurent caught his gaze, as he had caught the subtle change in words -- easy, deliberate. His eyes were bright and behind them, a hope that Damen had rarely seen was beginning to settle in.

He answered with all his usual practicality. Apparently, in the West, villages clinging to the Regent’s ideology had made trading on the coast difficult. As Laurent was still twenty, there were complications with Veretian laws of succession, and the current ambiguity with which his commands could be carried out. Most joint council meetings still ended near anger over mistranslations. And then, of course, there was Delpha.

In the aftermath, Laurent was taking a very typical approach, wrangling anything contrary under his control. Having fought for a crown he wasn't sure he'd ever have, Laurent wore it proudly and cautiously, as if someone still dared to take it from him.

With a look in his eyes that Damen could not place, Laurent traced light fingers from the scar on his shoulder to the wrap on his side. Duty and treachery, two painful means with the same end, had left scars on his body. Now all that remained of their brothers, these marks hurt less than the ones they could not see.

It comforted Damen that healing, like all other things, they could do together. Every night they shared a bed, and every morning Damen woke to the silhouette of Laurent slipping quietly away. Still, he missed their closeness, and the hours passed in low voices over maps of the countryside, long days under the sun on horseback. He missed the efficiency with which Laurent ruled, and the ruthless, impeccable mind that untangled every problem set in front of him. In the absence of one, it could be difficult to shift Laurent’s focus to his own desires.

Damen brushed a piece of golden hair from Laurent’s eyes. “We will deal with those together in the morning. Be here with me now”.

His fingers drifted down Laurent’s neck to pluck at his laces. Laurent did not answer, but when his eyes met Damen’s they held no objection. He raised his brow, but together they untangled the blue velvet jacket from his shoulders. His fine white undershirt joined it on the floor. Laurent would seem cooly unaffected, if Damen didn't know that the hitch of his breath was only slightly too fast.

Like this, it might be a while to soothing him, with Laurent's calculating gaze and straight spine evidence of a mind otherwise occupied. He let his fingers drift lower to another set of laces.

Damen searched Laurent’s face, framed by the soft gold hair tumbling down his shoulders to his chest, just starting to pink. But Laurent was a study in stillness – one hand braced on his sternum, one tangled in the sheets next to his head. Laurent stared down at him, stiff with the tension of today's political battles well-fought. His pants were harder to coax off than his jacket.

Faced with a canvas of bare skin, Damen traced the jut of a kneecap, ran his palms up Laurent's legs until the fine golden hair gave way to the sturdy warmth of his waist. When Laurent looked at him warily, Damen's smile widened, and he pulled him down further, folded legs to ribcage, knees nudging at Damen's shoulders. His gaze settled at the pink length in front of him.

He tucked a cushion behind his head to ease the strain on his neck and injured side before he pressed his lips to the curve of Laurent's knee. He palmed his legs open wider, exposing the pale skin of Laurent’s thighs to his wandering mouth, each kiss left like a prayer. A holy man on pilgrimage.

When Damen reached the span between Laurent's hip and his thigh, he waited, nosing at the soft hair at the base of his cock. It jumped against his cheek, a betrayal of Laurent's still perfection, a break in his armor. A single brush of his lips against the shaft before he began again at Laurent's other knee.

His hands curved over the dip at the base of Laurent's back, wanting him, needing him closer. A soft, sweet sound had him glancing through his lashes. The line of Laurent's shoulders had broken, his head bowed, the whole of him beginning to loosen up under the gentle press of his mouth.

Damen grinned, and leaned down suddenly to take the pink tip of Laurent's cock in his mouth. 

Laurent's hips edged forward with a hushed gasp, like he'd been unable to stop them, seeking heat and warmth and inexplicable pleasure. His cock was as stiff as the rest of him had been. Damen could imagine how much it must ache.

He ran his tongue just over the head, keeping Laurent on the edge of something greater without haste. Their last night at the inn on the border had been a rare thing, an opportunity for gentleness that Damen craves and Laurent needs. In the over two weeks Damen had been laying in bed, injured but no less full of desire, Laurent had avoided any activity in opposition to healing. Including, perhaps especially, their favorite horizontal ones. It seemed as if over-two-weeks was also the limit to Laurent’s iron self-control. Damen was still treading gently, as if toeing around a spooked horse, but apparently Laurent had no objection when only he was sitting up.

Just as he’d hoped, the soft attention to the tip of his cock had Laurent almost keening. The sounds Laurent made in bed were still precious, few and far between, roped in by his meticulous control. Gauging Laurent's comfort, he slipped low between his legs. He felt hands sift into his hair.

"Damianos," almost chiding, less a question than an order. His thighs were tense. Damen pressed his lips to the underside of Laurent's cock.

"Yes?"

"What are you doing?"  


Honesty was best with Laurent, especially in bed. "I was going to kiss you here," and he soothed a finger over the tight, pink furl, turned his cheek to the straining line of his leg. "Will that please Your Highness?

A pause, and a shivery inhale. Considering.

"How will you breathe?"

Damen laughed, felt Laurent shift as it reverberated through him. "There are more important things," and to prove it, he drew Laurent down until his lips caught on the ring of muscle, his warm breath raising the hair he could feel underneath his palms.

Laurent was tense above him, even more than before with the novelty of this. When Damen's mouth opened around a hint of tongue, his hips rolled back, knees spreading wider on silk.

Damen could almost hear Laurent's spine locking back into place as he realized what he had done. Like he would deny himself this pleasure if he thought Damen uncomfortable.

He pulled away for a moment, thumbs tracing light circles over Laurent's stomach. He looked up at him in earnest. "Laurent, do you want to stop?"

"No. I – no.”

From Laurent, it was enough, and Damen reapplied his mouth happily, willing Laurent to take as much pleasure as he knew this act could give. Down between his thighs, Damen couldn’t see much of anything. He could, however, picture Laurent’s face quite clearly just as he made _that_ sound.

Like they both prefer, he was slow but determined, working Laurent inexorably up to his peak. Laurent’s fingers tightened in his hair. He was single-minded to a purpose, until all he could taste, feel, hear was Laurent, overwhelming and ever-present.

“Damen,” he said again, slightly strangled this time, and that was all that he needed to give Laurent anything. Everything.

He soothed one hand up Laurent's spine, encouraging the slight roll of his hips on to his tongue, curled the other across the top of his thigh to keep him close. Damien licked into him deep, warm, unyielding, losing himself to his task.

When Laurent came, he trembled, spilling up his own chest.

Damen slipped out from underneath him, arms spanning Laurent’s ribs to lower his weight back to the bed. Side by side, Damen fingered the silky wetness on his skin, more than a little smug.

"Adequate?"

Laurent, recovering, was torn between annoyance and disheveled amusement. "You always are."

Damen enjoyed the steady rise and fall of Laurent’s chest with a new appreciation. _To get what you want, you have to know exactly how much you are willing to give up._ Damen had almost lost everything to have what rest beside him now. For a time, he just looked.

Then, Laurent moved, crowding him into a kiss that sent Damen’s heart racing. When he tried to deepen it, Laurent nipped at his mouth. His teeth, like his wit, were purposefully applied.

“I want you like this,” he said, twisting until he was flat to the sheets with Damen all over. That, too, was wonderfully new, Laurent more vocal about his own needs in bed.

"Again?" Damen asked with a smirk, "What was that about overexertion?"

"From my view, you are still lying down", Laurent said. He looked younger than he ever had, like a weight had lifted off him with the simple act of choice.

Damen indulged him. “And if I strain my injury? You’re flirting with two more weeks of bed rest.”

An empty threat. Sparring with Laurent in this way was something else Damen had missed. Laurent reached between them with clever hands to reassure. “There are more important things."

Damen, who enjoyed the journey as much as the destination, took his time opening Laurent on his fingers. The bottles of oil left by their bedside were wonderfully within grasp, and eased the way, Laurent’s entrance barely less tense than the rest of him. It almost felt cruel to curl his wrist just so, when Damen knew what sound it would yield.

Instead, in its place another noise, one he didn’t think he’d yet heard. He wanted to hear it again.

"I'll have to thank Paschal."

He weathered Laurent's glare. "Paschal is not to hear of this." Damen crooked his fingers, and he was rewarded by Laurent’s voice, broken mid-word. "I think he would strongly disagree with my tactics as physician."

Damen waited until Laurent was slick and spread, rocking back onto his fingers before he finally, sweetly, pressed in.

How had he forgotten this? The feeling of Laurent hot and tight around him, pulling him closer, breath uneven on his neck. He loved seeing Laurent above him, dusted with gold from the afternoon sun. But like this, pressed close, it was easier to breathe.

Damen shifted his hips forward, barely a nudge into the tight heat. Laurent pressed down, testing the stretch. Damen took it for what it was - an invitation to move, which he accepted. There was little finesse, Laurent’s hair splayed out like the sun, heels hooked over the back of his thighs. Long fingers flexed out on his shoulder before curling in tighter.

He had to stop, fully engulfed. The cage of Laurent’s legs made the retreat of his hips a difficult task. Damen was largely rooted where he was, kanting his hips in small circles. It was the only kind of agony he would willingly endure. He turned into the warmth of Laurent’s mouth at his cheek.

They built, the feelings between them, like they always had - inevitably. As much as Damen wanted to stay pressed this close, that would soon be out of his control. Under him, Laurent was pink from his nose to the tips of his ears, down the length of his neck tossed back. Just looking at him made his stomach drop, like the view from the cliffs beneath their window. A telltale twitch of the heat around him had Damen reaching down to help, grip tight.

For the second time, Laurent spilled up his flushed chest, his neck a tender arch under Damen’s lips. Damen followed quickly, pulsing inside tight velvet warmth, Laurent all around him. The frantic beat of his heart made his side ache, and there was pain pushing up under his ribs like he’d been in the training yard for too long. He still managed to pull out and turn over, drawing Laurent’s tense body on top of his. The familiar weight of him was soothing in an unexpected way.

He heard Laurent sigh from the emptiness, a soft, impatient thing he remembered from the rooftops in Nesson, a chase not yet finished. Not for the first time, he was glad they knew each other in these small ways, like tracing favorite words on a well-worn page.

Fatigue tugged at the edges of Damen’s mind, hands heavy where they lay, almost protective, over the stiff lines of Laurent’s back. Coming twice in succession was often enough to ease the tension out of him. Now, Laurent’s breath hit in measure gasps just under his jaw, and the length of him was still slick and hard between their hips.

It seemed as if these two weeks had been more taxing on Laurent than he wished to admit. Damen’s muscles protested when he gathered Laurent in closer, pressing a kiss to the damp hair near his temple. Two of Damen’s fingers traced the curve of his pale back down between his thighs.

Laurent was hot and wet, though the latter was decidedly his fault. He gathered some of his own release on his fingers, before slipping them back in. It gave Laurent something to clench down on, to refocus his shivering, tense desire. A shock of blonde hair tickled Damen’s neck when Laurent groaned and tucked into him. His sigh of “Barbaric” felt more like _thank you_.

“I love this about you.”

Laurent’s response was a little breathless, almost laughing. “You’ve said that before,” and then, “What in particular this time?”

“That you can come from being kissed.”

Laurent ducked his head, but rolled his hips back pointedly on the fingers still, sturdy, and aching inside him. His body shuddered in a delicious wave before he huffed against Damen’s mouth. “Not just from being kissed."

Damen smiled, and changed the tilt of his fingers, agreeing. He could feel Laurent panting open mouthed, pink lips catching along his collarbone. Laurent’s cock was fever hot where it pressed against his own. He felt his own cock stir again between his legs, tempered by fatigue.

Determined, Damen crooked his fingers, rocking in time with Laurent’s hips. Slowly, Damen’s other hand came to soothe across his cheekbone and down his neck. He tilted Laurent’s head to the side and he went easily, tension dripping out of him nape to thigh to ankle.

Damen’s lips found his pulse point, and lingered, luxuriating in the unsteady beat of Laurent’s heart. Even slower, his mouth drifted behind the golden tangles just under his ear. Laurent’s hips kicked forward.

“There,” he said, words soft at the edges, as Laurent added to the mess they had both been making between them. The tension had dissolved, leaving him, finally, soft and warm like bruised fruit in Damen’s hands.

A short time later, when Damen’s eyes had grown too heavy to hold open, he felt fingers mapping his skin. “How is your side?” Laurent said.

Damen shifted his hips, pointedly, though his own sympathetic response to the need in Laurent’s body had also been overcome by exhaustion. “It isn’t my side I feel sorry for.”

A rush of cool air hit his neck as Laurent peered down. He hummed, thoughtful, and the warmth returned. “Perhaps Paschal has a salve for that.”

Damen fell asleep laughing, Laurent shoring up his injured side. He dreamt then, of a panther’s mouth, the elegant curve of an ankle, the smooth glide of skin on skin. Damen’s body rose before he did, captivated by it all.

He woke in low light, stretched, and groaned as the sheets, decidedly not Laurent, moved over his hips. Damen turned, and for a moment, he couldn’t see Laurent’s face, silhouetted where he was against the window. Then, tired eyes found his, taking in the hazy outline of his extended hand, another invitation, before they drifted lower still. He set his cup down on the sill, forgotten.  


"Come back to bed, Laurent.”

For the first time in two weeks, he did.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't care if this is an unrealistic amount of orgasms for such a short amount of time. It's been a sad and horny quarantine.


End file.
